


Slow Dancing In The Dark

by Heartfulkings



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, High School, M/M, Other, Space Pirates, lets goooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heartfulkings/pseuds/Heartfulkings
Summary: In which a new student arrives, Dib feels threatened for some reason, old cliches are rescued from the dusty attic of 2009 and new ones arise.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz (Invader Zim)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Er... I’m not sure what happened with AO3 but this is in fact a multi chapter fic.

When it comes to ethical teaching practices, Ms Bitters isn’t exactly up to code. It’s never much of a surprise when a student happens to disappear overnight, only to be replaced promptly the next day. Most of Dib Membrane’s senior year is comprised of students having arrived that very autumn. It’s a little disconcerting missing that many peers from grade school, but one would be remiss to describe this as a problem. 

Most kids who’d given Dib shit were long gone. By now no one pays much attention to the quiet kid in the back of the class. Long gone were the days when Dib frequently interrupted class with his hysterics. Along with the drastic growth spurt leaving him a towering beast amongst everyone else, Dib has also undergone a shocking emotional change. And as is always apparent one way or another, rapid changes to the psyche tend to leave stretch marks. Now small groups of girls might giggle nervously behind hands when Dib walks by, and the occasional brave soul would ask how many kids he’s shot down today. Given the trenchcoat clunky with buttons he always adorns, and the wild sprig of hair waving like a white flag from what’s otherwise a shaved scalp, there isn’t really any question as to the source of that sort of speculation.

The only consistent seems to be Zim. No last name, ears or nose, outrageously green, Zim. He’s still very short and still very loud, although now he moreso occupies Dib’s periphery. Dib has, as much as loathe he is to admit it, started to observe Zim, like he maybe should have done long before investing interest in dissecting him. 

Scraggly looking wig, probably still unwashed from its day of purchase. The nape of his neck being a tease of scaled skin. Dib knows that much like a snake, these scales are a lot smoother than its appearance. Zim has gotten only marginally smarter, throwing over an oversized hoody and small backpack disguising his pak and covering the bottom of his tights with leg warmers. Of course it works on everyone else, but on Dib’s part all this manages to do is draw attention to the reptilian nature of Zim’s legs. Haunched, with each boot usually torn by two claws poking out. The third claw is mostly hidden, only apparent in the way Zim’s stance is constantly poised, as if the make of his body has evolved to constantly be on the run. The leggings do nothing to conceal the fluidity of Zim’s motions either, the near impossible speed he rushes off at, or the way his claws retract when he’s lost in thought. 

Considering everything, despite Zim’s diminutive height, sitting behind him still proves to be distracting. Which, Dib reflects to himself bitterly, throws a wrench in his curated image of a nobody. Now he’s the possible shooter kid who is apparently a creep with his habit of stalking Zim. According to Gaz at least. This was not to be the case for long, however. Just when he resigns himself to his souring reputation, Dib is given a heaven sent gift. As if the Universe has finally decided to throw him a fucking bone. 

A new student arrives, escorted by Ms Bitters. A rare occurrence in itself, as she hasn’t bothered really introducing anyone since grade school. Like a foreboding specter, she hovers behind the unsuspecting new kid who’s probably nowhere near prepared for this shitshow of a school. 

“This is the most recent parasite that’s cropped up,” Ms Bitters snips. “Xey say xey go by xey/ xem pronouns, something I’m legally obligated to disclaim beforehand. So when you little shits decide to ignore this at least I can say I tried to stop the state mandated PRDs from having to build up casualties.” 

Yes! Anyone who requires the assistance of Pronoun Regulating Dogs is easy pickings when it comes to being targeted. All it takes is a couple of assholes to corner xem during break and ask mocking questions. A tradition Dib was subject to of course. 

The student steps forward with a bounce in xer step. “Mah names Pip! Pip as in,” Xey fall into a violent coughing fit before recovering with a dopey smile, pale pinkish foam forming at the corners. “I look forward to meating everyone!” 

Oh  _ fuck  _ yes. 

Xey slip into the desk besides Zim of all people, xyr smile unfaltering. Dib spies a snatch of Zim’s snout as he sizes up Pip, before seemingly dismissing xem as a threat, and turning his attention forward. Dib drinks in this small altercation with the eagerness of a scientist looking for any positive results in a time sensitive experiment. The problem is, he realizes, is that there’s no need for this experiment anymore.

  
  


The date is sometime in September, where the leaves start to accept their withering fate, as do the children. Round these parts the nature scenery is sparse as is. The spindly tree planted right outside the window that Dib sits at, resembles a witches arthritic claw more so than any romantic vision of a tree robed in gold and russet. 

Summer was no better an ideal, the stripped sun beating mercilessly upon a town made up of little more than dark drapery. It was not kind to those without company to wile away the dragging hours with.

Usually Dib spent his time whimsically adventuring, whether it be after cryptids or ghosts or his neighbors' vampiric habits. That was in his youth though, left far behind. 

At some point targeting Zim seemed like an upgrade from such childish antics. Having an arch nemesis had stricken him as an incredibly adult thing, and Dib took his job very seriously. Had you asked him back then if he found any enjoyment in these ventures he would have fixed you with a stare and said, 

“There’s nothing “fun” about saying the world from unseen danger. It’s an arduous task, paved with many downfalls and unbelievers-” in a very grim manner that ought to come from a bitter old man. 

Now though, Dib cannot deny the pang of nostalgia every time he has to clock into work, lifting boxes by the armful, setting them down. Oh well. At least Gaz works alongside him. While Dib had looked for work it was in desperation to survive leaving home. Gaz had joined, likely out of a very sisterly cocktail of spite and concern. 

“Seriously Gaz, there’s something off about Pip, and I think xyr conniving with Zim. It’s just so  _ weird  _ seeing him get along with someone.” Dib slams a crate down with a little more force than intended to make his point.

Her slitted eyes meet his in silent admonishment for the rough handling. She sighs. “This just seems like another excuse to go after Zim again. Like, what’s the point of pretending you don’t miss fighting him? It’s used to be kinda funny seeing how stupid you are, but now it’s just annoying.

“I’m not pretending anything! You know I’m too old for that shit now. I have adult responsibilities. And taxes.”

Both siblings shudder at the mere thought, but Gaz presses on the topic all the same. “You haven't been the same since that florpus debacle and let’s be honest neither has Zim. Either you guys kiss and makeup or invest in a fuckng therapist, because I’m not getting paid for this bullshit.”

Gaz sets to leave as she’s known to do out of boredom, despite her shift not being done. There isn’t any doubt their boss would be too afraid to point this out. 

Wait.

“I don't want to kiss Zim!” Dib exclaims, but Gaz waves him off with a curt,

“It's a figure of speech dunkass.” There’s something odd about the way she says this, as if there’s a tone of amusement behind it. As is characteristic of Dib, he ignores this, only grumbling about the workload left for him. 


	2. Notice!!

Aiight so as strong as my current hyper-fixation on invader zim is, I gotta take some time for original works and commissions but y’all best believe I’m coming right back to update- I have Plans for both this fic and my Kanaya fic.


End file.
